#1.3" Screen

[ilovolderman]

Movie Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Sam tries to gather proof of your secret relationship with Bucky during a movie night.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, sam losing his mind, one shared blanket

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9 thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

Sam Wilson was back on his BS.

Not because he wanted to be. No. He had to be. This was about justice. About truth. About the undeniable, unquantifiable, deeply suspicious sense that you and Bucky Barnes were absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent... up to something.

He didn’t have hard evidence. He didn’t even have medium evidence. What he had was vibes.

And the vibes? They were criminal.

It all started on a Wednesday.

The group had planned a “Chill Movie Night.”

Sam arrived early, armed with snacks, a color-coded emotional tracking spreadsheet, and a high-end mood ring that Tony insisted was “useless but fun.”

Everything seemed normal. Steve was fluffing pillows like a dad trying to avoid confrontation. Peter was arguing with the popcorn machine. Natasha was already asleep on the couch. (Open-eyed, somehow. Very concerning.) Tony was making a cocktail out of four liquids that were definitely not FDA-approved.

And then you walked in.

Sam’s eye twitched.

Behind you, Bucky entered. Smirking. Carrying your favorite takeout like some kind of emotionally supportive boyfriend ninja.

“Hey, guys,” you said sweetly, flopping onto the couch. Bucky sat beside you, a respectable distance away.

Until Sam blinked.

And suddenly, somehow, your knees were touching.

EXHIBIT Q. KNEE TREASON.

Sam clutched his soda like it was the last thing anchoring him to reality.

The movie choice? A romcom. Obviously. The plot? Two idiots pretending not to be in love. The irony? Painful.

Sam watched you both. Not the movie. You giggled during the fake-dating scene. Bucky smirked.

Your eyes met for exactly 1.3 seconds. You looked away like your life depended on it.

Sam scribbled in his notes. Tony leaned in, whispering, “Are you actually watching the movie or doing telepathy?”

“I’m watching a conspiracy unfold in real time,” Sam whispered back. “...Of course you are.”

On screen, the protagonists shared a dramatic, rain-soaked kiss. On the couch, Bucky passed you a napkin. You took it without looking. No words. No thank you.

EXHIBIT R. EMPATHETIC NAPKIN TRANSFER.

Sam wrote “co-dependent, probably share a soul.” in his notes.

It got worse. At some point  Peter complained about the cold. Tony threatened to install a fireplace. Someone, probably Steve, bless his Midwestern heart, tossed a blanket over the couch. You grabbed one end. Bucky took the other.

Normal. Harmless. Unremarkable.

Until Sam realized there was only one blanket.

And two people under it.

A suspicious amount of shoulder contact was happening beneath that polyester monstrosity. Too much shared body heat. Too much calm.

Sam squinted. “Why are they always so synchronized?” Steve, confused: “Who?” Sam: “The blanket goblins.” Steve: “...Are you okay?” Sam: “NO.”

The movie played on in the background, but you and Bucky were no longer paying attention. Instead, you two were quietly leaning into each other, aware of Sam's eagle-eyed attention from across the room. The couch creaked as Bucky shifted slightly closer, his arm brushing against yours, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling too widely.

"Do you think Sam's lost it yet?" you whispered, voice low, just enough for Bucky to hear.

Bucky grinned, but didn’t look away from the screen. "Oh, he’s spiraling. I can feel his brain cells popping one by one."

You let out a tiny snort, trying to hold back the giggle that was threatening to escape. “He's so obvious. He keeps glancing over every two seconds. Should we give him a little more to work with?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his lips curling in a barely contained smirk. “You want to really mess with him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should let him stew for a bit longer.” You shot a playful glance at Sam, who was practically glaring at you two from behind his soda. "He’s getting all worked up for nothing."

Bucky leaned in a little closer, his breath warm on your ear as he whispered, “Let’s make him regret not having a seat next to us.”

He shifted slightly, just enough that your knees brushed against each other. The small touch seemed so innocent to anyone else, but Sam’s narrowed eyes locked onto the subtle movement, his hand hovering over his notebook like a hawk waiting to strike.

Your lips quirked into a mischievous smile. You did your best to make it look like a completely natural movement as you accidentally rested your head against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky, of course, played along beautifully, his arm casually draping over the back of the couch behind you, so close that your bodies were practically melting into each other.

“You okay?” he asked in the most nonchalant tone, but the teasing glint in his eyes was hard to miss.

You blinked, putting on your best innocent face. “Oh, yeah. Just—just—getting comfy.” Your hand brushed against his as you adjusted yourself, and you quickly squeezed his fingers once before letting them fall.

Your eyes flicked over to Sam, who was visibly straining to stay calm, his hand twitching over his notebook like it was a lifeline. You could practically hear his thoughts racing: This is it. This is definitely it. They're in on it.

You smiled sweetly, letting your voice drop to an exaggerated whisper. “I think I might be too comfortable.”

Bucky’s smirk widened, and before Sam could even react, he casually pulled his jacket sleeve over his hand, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and gently brushed his fingertips against your knee. The slightest contact. Barely a touch.

Sam’s eyes narrowed so sharply that it looked like his face might implode. He scribbled something aggressively in his notebook. You could almost hear the frantic ticking of his mental clock. *Evidence: They are physically close. Touch. Note: Is this normal?

You stifled a laugh, shifting just a little to let your body lean more into Bucky. “You know,” you said, voice syrupy sweet, “I could really get used to this.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, shifting just enough that his shoulder brushed against yours, and his hand accidentally found its way to your lower back. “Well, lucky for you,” he said with mock sincerity, “I’m just that kind of guy. Always happy to offer some… support.”

You grinned, fighting the urge to burst into laughter. Instead, you pressed your palm into his chest, just enough for the world to think it was a casual adjustment. But oh, you knew. You knew what was happening.

Sam was now glaring at you both with a level of intensity that could melt steel.

Bucky turned his head toward you, but just enough so Sam could definitely see. He made eye contact, and his lips curved into a teasing grin, one that said, I know you’re watching.

You raised your eyebrows in challenge and tilted your head as if asking, What are you going to do about it, Sam?

You caught a glimpse of his expression, then leaned closer to Bucky. “I swear he’s about to pull out a flowchart,” you whispered, lips curling into a mischievous grin.

Bucky bit back a laugh. “Let him. He’ll need it for all this groundbreaking evidence.”

Sam’s eye twitched.

You and Bucky both leaned back, relaxing into each other, casually oblivious to the total chaos you were unleashing. Sam sat back down, utterly defeated, furiously scribbling in his notebook. He couldn’t even look at the screen anymore.

Then, the movie ended. The lights came on. You yawned. Bucky stretched.

And Sam watched in horror as Bucky casually — casually! — helped you into your jacket like it was 1952 and you were going steady after a sock hop.

You whispered something to him. He grinned. Then you both said you were leaving at the same time, but separately.

Bucky went out the back. You left through the front.

Sam looked at Natasha.

“Did you see that?” She didn’t even open her eyes. “Nope.” “Lies.” “You need a nap.” “I need the TRUTH.”

Tony sipped his weird drink. “I give it another week before they start sharing shoes.”

Peter, from the kitchen: “Wait, do they not already?”

Sam screamed into the void.

Later that night the rooftop was quiet, blanketed in the soft hush of city sounds far below. A gentle breeze tugged at the edge of the blanket draped over your shoulders as you curled into your usual corner, legs tucked beneath you. Fairy lights flickered lazily overhead, casting warm glows over Bucky’s face as he joined you with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

He handed one “Cheers to another successful psychological operation,” you said, clinking the mugs.

“To Operation: Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlfriend,” Bucky replied solemnly, taking a sip. He immediately burned his tongue and winced.

You giggled, taking a much more careful sip. “You know Sam’s going to start cross-referencing our foot placement on the couch with moon phases, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” Bucky said. “I bet he’s already got a red string board with little thumbtacks that spell ‘LIES.’”

You leaned into him with a contented sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. “We are going to hell.”

“Matching outfits,” he said. “I already ordered the shirts.”

You burst into laughter, nearly spilling your drink. “Bucky.”

He just smiled, wide and soft and unguarded in the dim rooftop light, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side like you belonged there—and honestly, you did.

A beat of silence passed. The kind that wasn’t awkward. The kind that felt like a warm exhale, like a secret just between the two of you.

You smiled into your mug, letting the words settle. The city shimmered below you. The stars above blinked like they were in on the secret too.

“I like it up here,” you murmured.

“I like you up here,” Bucky replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head, right at your temple, like he was memorizing the shape of your joy.

You turned your face toward him, bumping noses a little in that silly, clumsy way that always made him smile. “You’re being very sweet. Should I be worried?”

He shrugged. “Just making sure you know.”

“That you like me?”

“That I’m crazy about you,” he said, and then, quieter: “Even when you’re fake flirting with me to drive Sam to madness.”

You grinned. “Oh, babe. That’s not fake.”

Bucky blinked, then broke into a grin so dopey and full of love it made your chest ache.

You clinked your mugs together again, just because.

Meanwhile Sam was crouched on the roof of a building, squinting through a comically long-lensed pair of binoculars that Tony swore were “state-of-the-art.”

They were not.

They were the opposite of helpful.

They had a cracked lens, fog on the inside, and occasionally made a sad whining sound like they missed retirement.

Still, Sam stared across the distance with the desperate determination of a man on the brink.

Through the foggy lens, he saw… two tiny blobs.

Two indistinct, cozy-looking blobs huddled on the rooftop of Avengers Tower, gently illuminated by twinkle lights that only added insult to injury.

He couldn’t see their faces. He couldn’t read lips. He couldn’t tell which blob was Bucky and which was you.

“Come on, do something,” Sam muttered, adjusting the focus knob. Nothing changed. He flipped it the other way. The blobs got blurrier.

He smacked the side of the binoculars.

They shut off.

He swore loudly and rebooted them.

Inside his earpiece, FRIDAY chimed in, unbothered: “Would you like me to send a drone for closer surveillance?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “No. That’s what they want. Then they’ll know I’m watching.”

“They already know you’re watching.”

“I have to catch them, FRIDAY. Not just feel it in my soul.”

Another blob shifted.

Sam gasped. “Movement. MOVEMENT.” He turned the dial again. Still nothing but murky shadow-people. “Are they... hugging? Is that a hug? Or... is one of them standing up? Oh my god, is Bucky proposing?!”

A long pause. Then, FRIDAY dryly: “Sir. They are literally just drinking cocoa.”

Sam groaned and flopped backward onto the gravel roof, his limbs starfished dramatically like a war hero brought low by cuddle-based crimes.

“This is torture,” he moaned. “I’m three buildings away, I’ve got frostbite on my kneecaps, and I’m watching two potato blobs make suspiciously synchronized cocoa movements.”

“Shall I remind you,” FRIDAY said gently, “that you volunteered for this?”

“I VOLUNTEERED FOR TRUTH. AND JUSTICE. AND—” Sam sat up suddenly. “Wait. Are they... did that blob just touch the other blob’s blob-arm?”

“I have no idea, sir.”

“Oh god,” he whispered. “They’re holding hands. I feel it.”

“Or one of them is adjusting a blanket.”

Sam made a noise like a teakettle dying. “It’s the vibes, FRIDAY. I am being spiritually attacked.”

A car honked below. Sam yelped and dropped the binoculars. They hit the ground, bounced once, and rolled off the edge of the building with a dramatic clatter that absolutely ruined the "stealth" part of the mission.

Sam stared at the edge.

Then at the sky.

Then at his empty hands.

“FRIDAY, I’ve lost visual.”

There was a beat.

“Sir, you never had it.”

Back at Avengers Tower, on the actual rooftop you snuggled closer to Bucky, sipping your hot chocolate, utterly unaware of the storm raging in a man's soul several rooftops away.

Actually, no—you were very aware.

You nudged Bucky. “Wanna bet where Sam is right now trying to spy on us?”

Bucky grinned. “Roof of that tall brick building with the busted vent.”

You blinked. “How do you know?”

“I waved at him like ten minutes ago.”

next part

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[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hi lovely, I absolutely love your stories. I was wondering if you could write one for Lewis, he has a daughter who is 16-17 and is absolutely smart, like Einstein smart and it's her first time in the Ferrari garage since Lewis moved and she saw a fault in some engineering work and helped fixing it and shocked her father and the whole garage. Thank you

The Future of Ferrari

Ferrari’s Maranello garage was a symphony of whirring drills, clanking tools, and intense Italian chatter. The team was hard at work preparing for the weekend’s qualifying session, red and black suits moving in well-practiced rhythm. Amid the organized chaos, one presence stood out—not because of noise, but because of the absolute silence and awe she left in her wake.

A girl with thick curls pulled into a loose bun and wide, observant brown eyes stood at the edge of the garage. She wore an oversized red hoodie with the Ferrari emblem on the chest, and a lanyard hung from her neck, swinging gently with her movements. Her expression was sharp, analyzing every corner of the room like she was mentally dissecting the internal combustion engine of the SF-24 just by looking at it.

“Daaaad,” she called out, trying not to sound impatient. “Where do you keep the drinks around here? I’m thirsty.”

Lewis turned around, helmet under his arm, his eyes immediately softening at the sight of his daughter. “Over there, near the data screens. Just don’t unplug anything or they’ll have a meltdown,” he teased, pointing her toward the crew’s refreshment corner.

She smirked. “Please, I could rewire this place blindfolded.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “That’s the confidence of a teenager with three physics awards.”

“Five,” she corrected, walking off.

As she moved across the garage, a few of the engineers took notice, recognizing her as Lewis’s daughter. Most had heard rumors of her intellect. She had attended MIT lectures for fun while vacationing in the States and was known for winning national-level science competitions in Europe. But seeing her in the flesh, in their sacred garage? That was new.

She sipped a bottle of water and leaned casually against a pillar, eyes drifting over the open rear of the car. Something wasn’t sitting right. She tilted her head, stepped forward a bit, and squinted at the gearbox housing.

A technician walked past her, carrying a tablet. “Excuse me,” she said, stepping closer to the car. “Is that the final mount design for the differential casing?”

The man blinked at her. “Uh… yes?”

She pointed to a specific joint just behind the casing. “That’s going to cause micro-vibrations under torque load. The fastener's alignment is 1.3 degrees off. It’s subtle, but enough to affect the car's handling mid-corner. Especially if it's hot.”

The tech frowned, unsure if he should laugh or worry.

“Sorry, who are you again?”

“Just his daughter,” she replied, nodding toward Lewis, who was now talking with his race engineer.

“Do you want to… maybe sit down?” he asked awkwardly.

But she stepped past him, crouched slightly, and gestured at a younger engineer who was watching curiously.

“Can I borrow your torque data? Just real quick.”

The engineer hesitated, then handed her the tablet.

She began typing, pulling up schematics, calculations appearing rapidly on the screen. Her thumbs moved like lightning, her brow furrowed in concentration. A few other engineers were gathering now, whispering among themselves.

“I recalculated the stress vector. See?” she turned the tablet toward them. “It looks fine in theory, but under compound load—especially with the way the aero package is set up—it’ll shift. You’ll get slight inconsistencies in traction, which is bad news during qualifying laps.”

The older technician who’d first questioned her stepped forward again. “Are you saying we need to rework this section?”

“I’m saying you need to adjust the mounting bracket by 1.3 degrees, shift the load path just slightly to the left, and reinforce it with carbon-composite washers. If you do that, you’ll stabilize the torque vector and improve rear-end consistency in Sector 3.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Then—

“Where did you learn that?” one of the senior mechanics asked, blinking.

She shrugged. “I read a paper about torque distribution in high-speed cornering last week. Got bored on the flight here.”

Someone stifled a laugh. Another said under his breath, “Bloody hell…”

“Oi!” Lewis called, finally noticing the growing crowd. “What’s going on?”

The head of engineering, a stern Italian named Matteo, stepped forward and gestured for Lewis to come over.

“Your daughter,” he began slowly, still sounding amazed, “just found a design flaw we didn’t catch. One that would’ve possibly cost you two-tenths per lap. Maybe more.”

Lewis stared. “Wait. What?”

Matteo pointed at her. “She’s… she’s like a walking CFD simulator. She even pulled up our own torque data.”

Lewis turned to her, his face a mixture of disbelief and fatherly pride. “Sweetheart, what did you do?”

She looked up innocently. “I fixed your car. You’re welcome.”

A round of laughter broke out, but it was warm, appreciative. The crew clapped her on the back, some shaking their heads in awe.

“She’s incredible,” Matteo said to Lewis. “You sure she’s not secretly part of Red Bull’s spy program?”

Lewis laughed. “Trust me, if she were, we’d all be in trouble. She’s probably smarter than half the grid already.”

“I’m smarter than you,” she teased.

“Absolutely no doubt about that,” he replied with a grin, ruffling her hair.

She smoothed it down with a roll of her eyes. “So dramatic.”

The engineers quickly got to work implementing her suggestions. Matteo kept glancing back at her like she was some kind of wizard. Lewis watched with arms folded, his heart swelling.

After a while, she stood beside him, watching the updated component go onto the car.

“So… what did you think?” he asked gently.

She tilted her head. “It’s loud. Smells like oil. Half the men here don’t know how to hold a tablet properly.”

Lewis laughed. “Welcome to Formula One.”

She smiled. “It’s cool, though. I like it.”

He nudged her shoulder. “You ever think about working in this world someday? Engineering, maybe?”

She glanced at him, then back at the car. “Maybe. If they can keep up.”

He chuckled again. “No pressure, but… you made me proud today.”

She looked at him seriously. “You’re always proud.”

“True. But today, I’m blown away. You just walked into one of the most elite garages on the planet and made a critical engineering correction before lunch.”

She gave a shy smile, shrugging. “Just saw something wrong and fixed it.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You’ve always done that. In your own way.”

As the car roared to life for testing, the modified part holding firm, Lewis and his daughter stood side by side, two Hamiltons—one a living legend of the track, the other a rising genius who might just change the sport in her own quiet, brilliant way.

And somewhere behind them, Matteo whispered to a fellow engineer, “Keep an eye on her. She’s the future.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you!

-♡○♡

[p0orbaby]

Hi ,

May i request a cute short blurb of alexia putellas x reader where the reader is pregnant but she doesn't like anyone to hover and alexia is trying to hover quietly so that the reader doesnt notice or else the reader will bite her head off

-

“You’re breathing on me.”

You don’t look up. Your hand stays suspended an inch above the polished quartz island you had imported from Valencia last spring, poised carefully over the final, meticulous flick of buttercream on the Victoria sponge you didn’t even want to bake but decided on after a week-long craving that you blamed squarely on homesickness, the hormonal kind. Somewhere between your third and fourth trip to El Corte Inglés in one afternoon, you realised nostalgia tastes faintly of strawberry jam and bitter disappointment.

“I’m not,” Alexia says. She is, obviously. You can feel it—the faintest mist of her breath, close enough that if you turned, your reading glasses would fig up with a single exhale.

You straighten slowly, with the exact measured indifference of a Michelin inspector dissecting an amuse-bouche. You catch her reflection in the brushed steel of the Miele coffee machine she insisted on buying after a two-hour row in a Sant Cugat appliance showroom. She’s standing exactly 1.3 metres away—you’ve measured it with your eyes because you’re the sort of person who knows the circumference of a football (68–70cm), the exact sugar content of a Mercadona tarta de queso (approximately 32%), and the London to Barcelona flight time down to the minute (2 hours 5 minutes).

Alexia is pretending to check her phone.

It’s upside down.

The screen is blank.

The effort is almost insulting.

“You’re hovering,” you inform her, conversationally, like announcing the weather.

“No I’m not,” she replies, voice high, too fast, guilty.

You glance at her sideways. “You’re hovering like a fucking Guardia Urbana drone.”

She flushes.

You return to the cake, smoothing the top with the flat of your palette knife—a heavy Sabatier you brought over from England because Spanish knives, in your experience, are either dangerously blunt or designed exclusively for stabbing jamón. You’ve developed a twitch lately: an overwhelming need for everything to be perfectly symmetrical. The chaos of pregnancy—skin stretching, organs rearranging, blood pumping like a dodgy plumbing system—has made you obsessed with control over the insignificant.

Matching mugs. Alphabetised spice rack. Towels folded exactly to hotel standards: tri-fold, not half.

Alexia’s presence thrums in the background like tinnitus.

You can feel her trying not to fuss. Trying and failing.

“I’m blending,” she says, without conviction.

“You’re about as subtle as Sagrada Família,” you mutter.

She shifts awkwardly, the rubber soles of her Nike P-6000’s squeaking faintly on the hand-tiled floor you both spent a month arguing over—Catalan mosaic or modern minimalism. Modern minimalism won. You told yourself it was because of practicality but secretly it was because you could imagine this child, this squalling hypothetical mass, vomiting spectacularly over terrazzo.

Alexia folds her arms, a little too tightly. She’s wearing the navy Barça hoodie she stole from the kit room last season, the one with the crest embroidered so neatly you sometimes stare at it just to feel calmer.

“I just…” she starts, then trails off.

You wipe the knife clean on a damp tea towel—Liberty print, an import because Spanish ones are too short, too thin, too prone to shrivelling like old men in the sun.

“You just… what?” you prompt, tone sharp enough to draw blood.

She shrugs, helpless. “I’m being nearby.”

“Congratulations,” you deadpan. “Shall I fetch you a medal?”

Alexia pouts, an expression that would probably have got her punched if she weren’t spectacularly, unfairly beautiful.

There’s a bottle of Solán de Cabras water on the island, the blue one you’ve been craving like it’s holy water, and you take a slow, careful sip, just for something to do. You can see Alexia itching to offer you something—toast, fruit, the moon on a plate—and you brace yourself for the inevitable.

“Are you hungry?” she blurts, like a sneeze.

You don’t answer immediately. You let the silence unfurl between you like a long, slow exhale. Barcelona silence: interrupted only by the distant yapping of a terrier somewhere on Carrer d’Aragó, the low hum of a Vespa struggling uphill.

“I’m fine,” you say eventually, with the kind of icy politeness that would make Buckingham Palace staff nod in approval.

Alexia shifts her weight from one foot to the other, chewing her bottom lip like it’s rationed. You notice she’s wearing her fitness tracker again—a WHOOP with a Tundra Superknit bisep band—obsessively monitoring her sleep, her steps, her heart rate. You imagine it buzzing quietly under her hoodie, flashing an alert: STRESS DETECTED. BREATHE, IDIOT.

You almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

“Do you want to feel it kick?” you offer, with all the grace of a trapdoor opening.

Her face lights up like Plaça de Catalunya at Christmas.

She’s across the room in two strides, hands out, reverent, like you’re a relic.

She places her palm gently over the slight swell of your stomach—warm, steady, the faint scent of her vanilla hand cream ghosting up to you. You remember buying it with her in a cramped Gràcia pharmacy two months ago. She spent fifteen minutes comparing brands while you sat on a plastic stool and calculated, clinically, whether divorce paperwork could be filed in Catalan.

You both wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The baby remains stubbornly, impressively still.

“I swear,” Alexia says, whispering like the baby might overhear and feel insulted, “it moved earlier.”

You nod slowly, gravely. “Maybe it’s allergic to hovering.”

[namelessgakusei]

Extra EP. 1.3 Conflagration

Devil May Cry x Reader Insert

Warnings: It's DMC. Based on the New Netflix Series. Spoiler warnings for the actual show. Not proofread.

EP. 1.2 COMBUSTION (prev.)

EP. 2.1 Lead us not into temptation (cont.)

Synopsis: Unbeknownst to you and Dante, there are people plotting to bring the two of you down.

Deep within the Whitehouse gathered various people of authority, united for the same agenda of addressing the strange Vatican City Bombing. Dr. Fisher explains that a network of terrorist demons might be behind the attack, a claim immediately questioned by the general of the military, saying that America shouldn't entertain such ridiculous notions. Suddenly, a voice cuts in, defending the doctor's claim.

Vice President Baines turned to the general to his left, the glare accumulated from years of tactical management visible in his face. "I assure you, he is serious."

Dr. Fisher continued his presentation, saying that demons are related but separate from humans when it came to the evolutionary branch, having tested the DNA left on the scene. He explains that they exist and are natives from another universe, a parallel plane to Earth. While the talk about their place of origins continued to escalate, Vice President Baines furrowed his brows, deep in thought.

Mythology exists to explain Reality, said the doctor.

Apparently, there exists an interdimensional rift that acts as a bridge between the two universes, although it has been blocked for millennia by a field of quantum interference. There had been natural disruptions that makes way for demons to pass through, but are unstable enough to only let lesser ones in, enabling them to blend in the crowd. The president sputters and struggles to keep up, asking what this all means.

"Which means the big demons are stuck on the other side." Dr. Fisher nods. When asked about his employer, the presentation changed to reveal the organization. "Dark Realm Command." The bright red color contrasted the black screen as the insignia reveals the rest of the name. "DARKCOM, as our PR department insists we call it."

"DARKCOM is an independent dimensional security firm, funded by private investments, such as my own." Baines' voice made everyone shift to his direction, understanding well on who has the real power within the room. The lull in the room was broken by a hurried employee who insists on making everyone see the contents of the tape he delivered.

The screen plays the last moments of the group of criminals who raided the Vatican City Museum, revealing the culprit behind the attack, the White Rabbit. He spoke of a name, Sparda, as he marvels at the sword. This ignites the curiosity of the doctor, having heard the name before. But what soon followed in the feed was the brutal deaths of the men and the Rabbit's taunting words. "The gates of Hell will open soon enough."

"To any sapiens wishing to join the celebration," It's clear that the Rabbit planned for this video to be found, as it's like he's speaking directly to the leaders of America. "If you want to catch a rabbit, find the hunter."

"Hope to see you all there♡"

The thief screamed in agony as the Rabbit continuously stabbed him, laughing manically as the man dies.

The president staggered to get up on his feet, still shaken from what he saw, saying that this is all too much to deal with. Baines assured him that this is all real. Hell is real. And this is the start of the Holy War that Humanity should win.

"I believe the demon is toying with us." Dr. Fisher's expression hardened, nodding to the executives in front of him. "Giving us a clue to its next move. We need to figure out who this hunter is, which can only mean..."

"A Demon Hunter."

Baines' posture straightened up as he barks a command, voice low like a storm about to hit. "Find every demon hunter you can. And bring them to me."

Paranormal offices were raided, hunters were captured, beaten up if they resist, as they were all brought together in interrogation rooms. Frauds were weeded out from actual hunters, but it didn't saved them from getting hurt here and there. No matter how much they fight, they were always asked the same thing.

Do you know the White Rabbit?

Finally someone spoke up. A man, tanned with dyed blond hair, asked for a cigarette in exchange for his information. He said he knows a guy, a broker for demon hunters and mercenaries, a hustler who feeds off the bottom of the bottom feeders. "Last time I saw him, he told me how he'd set up this job for a talking bunny."

"I didn't give him much thought, coming from a serial liar and a drunk." The chained up demon hunter smirked at the other side of the one way glass.

"But maybe he wasn't lying." And perhaps he wasn't, and if it adds up, it means the White Rabbit was operating in New York. "Give me a name." Baines glared back, although he knew that the man can't see him from the other side of the glass.

The club was crashed in by a SWAT unit, their black uniforms completely out of place under the colorful lighting, demanding the whereabouts of Enzo Ferino. People screamed in surprise but didn't budged, either too high or drunk to care, but their target wasn't. Enzo jumped over a table and bolted upon seeing the cops, passing through the dancing crowd, who weren't too pleased by his hurried movements.

He thought he was safe when the fire exit was on his sight, cackling at his escape from imprisonment once again, only to get a door slammed to his face. The staff member gaped as Enzo was apprehended.

Enzo woke up with a start, handcuffs on his wrists and an electric shock clip about to get connected to his skin. "Before we start, you should know that I'll tell you anything you ask me about any subject!" He sputtered, narrowly avoiding getting electrocuted. That seemed to work, as the clip was withdrawn, but it didn't stopped the information broker to try and get the situation "under his control". "Now, let's talk compensation—"

The clip was nearly shoved to his face.

"Alright, I'll do it for free! You guys should really learn how to negotiate properly."

"Tell us about the White Rabbit." Baines' voice boomed from the speaker. Enzo chuckled and started recalling the events of their meeting. "He showed up at my office with a job that needed expediting."

"And that didn't seem strange to you?" Baines looked like he was about to murder someone as he leans closer to the mic. "A six-foot talking rabbit." But it only made Enzo scoff, saying that in his line of work, it's only a slow Tuesday. "Some demons making noise over on the west side that he wanted clipped. Calling too much attention to themselves and whatnot."

"Why? What did it mattered to him?"

"Y'know, I saw the price he was offering and I must've forgot to ask." Enzo shrugged and grinned. "One thing about it that struck me as funny is that, he has a particular demon hunter he wanted me to hire." He grimaced, shivering at the memory. "Wouldn't take anyone else."

"Who?"

"Kid named Dante."

Enzo frowned after that, saying that he's a sweet kid. "Bit of a troubled past, though. You know how it is, Dad not around. Mom and twin brother brutally murdered by demons. Y'know, that sort of thing." Before grinning again with a, somehow, proud expression. "Got attached to my kid though! They're practically hip to hip! Can't separate them for too long, else they get antsy."

The last part was promptly ignored in favor of digging up information on Dante. Dr. Fisher successfully pulled out his file and began snooping for details they could use. "Dante. Last name unknown." His mugshot was unserious, picking his nose and not standing straight. "Looks like he also works as a standard hired gun. Oh! And if half of what I'm reading here is true, his capabilities are extraordinary."

"What else do we have on him?" Baines frowned while the doctor marveled at what he saw. "Anything that explains the Rabbit's interest?"

"Hmm. It is said here that he always works with another demon hunter regardless of any mission. And he's recorded going AWOL from five separate jobs."

"Why?"

"It just says... Ugh." Dr. Fisher looks disappointed. "Got bored?"

Baines frowned, and asked about the other demon hunter, making the doctor pull out another file. Dr. Fisher's eyes widened at your document, there you stood properly for a mugshot photo, only glaring too much at the camera.

[Demon Hunter PII]

Name: (Y/N)

DoB: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Address: 862 Divine Street, Brooklyn, NY, 11206

Sex: [redacted]

Nationality: Unknown

H: [redacted]

W: [redacted]

EC: [redacted]

HC: [redacted]

Skin: [redacted]

Prof: Hunting High Ranking Demons

[Document Title]

Demon Hunting Evaluation Report

[Subject]

Name: (Y/N)

Occupation: Mercenary, Demon Hunter, Information Broker

Affiliated Group: None

[Overview]

This report serves to outline the evaluation of (Y/N), a demon-hunting mercenary and information broker, in both their job performance and comprehensive performance.

[Contents]

- Successfully completed every mission using a variety of self-made guns inside their briefcase.

- Capable of dealing with multiple enemies alone with their physical ability and agility.

- Always accompanied with the Demon Hunter, Dante and vice versa.

- Often acts as a mediator between Dante and their team mates, keeping him in line and solving conflicts before it arises.

- Their great combat skills and quick thinking are well-acknowledged, but their mutual reliance to Dante showcases their codependency.

[Combat Experience & Skills]

- 10+ years of being an information broker

- 5+ years of demon-hunting experience

- Has an excellent reputation in the black market and the demon hunter community.

- Experienced in battles with various types of demons; specializes in tracking and documenting demons.

- Highly skilled in marksmanship and weaponsmithing.

- Outstanding crisis management ability in dangerous situations and great tactical knowledge

- Skillful with military weapons and firearms, creates makeshift weapons within record time.

- Specializes in close-combat.

[Personality]

- Level-headed and cautious

- Confident in their ability and power

- Constantly seen bickering with Dante, even in dangerous situations, but compliments each other in combat.

- Can be flexible and work together as a team to complete missions, but usually works with Dante.

- Sharp and observant.

[Remarks]

Unauthorized access to classified missions.

Reason: DANTE GOT BORED AND I WAS CURIOUS. Y'KNOW, OLD HABITS DIE HARD.

*Assumed to be referring to their occupation as a broker, further investigation is due to find out if there will be a leak.

[Evaluation Report]

Mercenary (Y/N) demonstrates distinguished demon-hunting abilities. However, they need to be able to operate independently.

Further caution needs to be exercised when interacting with them due to their tendency to dig into your background.

"This is quite the combination." The doctor beamed. "This must be the kid that Mr. Ferino talked about. If they are really attached to each other..."

"We could use them to lure Dante out." Baines narrowed his eyes towards your picture.

"I heard a rumor once about demons who were too powerful to cross over, so they learned how to project their consciousness into our world and possess stuff, poltergeist-style." Enzo's warden was the unfortunate victim of his ranting. "You ask me, that's what this White Rabbit is. A possessed kid's toy." The broker grins towards the speaker, which replies to him with—

"I didn't asked."

"Look, look, look, that's all I know. If you're after his location, I can't help you. I only saw him once." Enzo shrugged and groaned, but Baines assured him that they already know where to look, as a man with a rabbit head can only avoid surveillance for so long. This made the broker scoff, saying that there won't be any survivors even if they send a team. But Baines replied with a cold voice.

"There was only one."

Before he sighed over the mic, asking of what he knows about the Sword of Sparda. Enzo tried retelling the tale that everyone knows, about the demon that rebelled against his own kind and sided with humanity, but the vice president cut him off, demanding him to give new information. This made the broker raise a brow but nonetheless complied, having no choice, as he reveals the existence of an amulet. The doctor immediately went to work and realized that it was the missing piece of the puzzle, that it was the transmitter that enabled the separation of the two worlds and while the demon technology is medieval, their understanding of the quantum principles is far more advanced than Humanity in its current era.

But Enzo said that the amulet was split into two, so there will be no way for the realms to be open to each other without limit; so long as the amulet remains broken, so will Armageddon remain as just a myth. It didn't stopped the doctor from listing out the worse possible scenarios, however, before being silenced by Baines, saying that they won't let it happen as it is the DARKCOM's purpose.

Their divine charge.

To be the last line of defense against the Inferno.

The Vice President mulled over the fact that the Rabbit already have the first half of the amulet, only for the door to swing open, with a jittery soldier coming out of it. It's the survivor, the doctor says, Anders from the J-Squad. The soldier insists on having sensitive information that he just had to say it directly to Baines, concerning the Rabbit and the end of the world.

"I heard the Rabbit say something after he'd done this. He was pissed off, furious, sir. He knows where the other half of the amulet is, and he tried to get it back already. But his plan failed."

"He's gonna try again. Soon."

Baines narrowed his eyes at Anders, inquiring more of the plan that the Rabbit said. But the soldier shook his head, saying that he doesn't know that much, only something about hiring someone for a set-up job. "Whoever it was, that's who has the other piece, sir."

Realization dawned to both Baines and Dr. Fisher as they both turned to the yawning Enzo.

"Dante."

taglist!: @mischiefmanaged71 @tamashithe2nd @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @96jnie

[nvxzaa]

── .✦ I love you, between us

Masterlist

Pairing : ¡idol!Lee Felix x reader

Word : 1.3

Genre : fluff, angst

Warning : none

For many months, Felix and Yn have lived a hidden but happy life.

Determined to protect Yn from the constraints of his idol life, Felix has naturally chosen to keep their relationship a secret - to the point of telling no one, not even his members.

Despite stolen dates and whispered conversations in the dead of night, their bond grew stronger. Every glance exchanged, every moment stolen from the hustle and bustle of fame, only confirmed what they already knew: what they shared was worth protecting.

But keeping such a precious secret is not without consequences. As time goes by, the line between public and private life becomes harder to maintain. Felix juggles his responsibilities and his feelings, while Yn, though happy, begins to feel the weight of silence.

And yet, neither of them is ready to give up. Yet.

One morning, after spending the night with his beloved, Felix quietly prepares to leave for the studio.

Yn is in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to her housework.

- I'm going to stop by the dormitory before rehearsals... Do you have any more cookie dough?

She looks up at the fake blond who has just entered the kitchen, and gives him a small smile.

- Do you want some for yourself or for everyone?

- For the boys. I told them they'd get some.

Yn approaches him with a teasing look.

- And you said I made them?

However, his gaze is a little evasive at the end of his sentence.

- But don't worry, they'll just be happy to eat them.

She freezes for a moment. But she smiles anyway. Because she's learned to deal with it. Because she loves it. So she gets up, goes to the kitchen, and bakes the cookies. He takes them with him, gives her a quick kiss and leaves.

Much later in the afternoon, Yn calls Félix, with a view to telling him about the adventure that has just befallen him.

The latter is quick to answer.

- Hey, you're just in time, I was going to send you a message.

- Oh, yeah? I'm calling to tell you something crazy, you'll laugh.

- Go ahead, I'm listening.

She starts to tell the story, cheerful, laughing at times. Félix listens, participates, laughs with her. Then, in the middle of their exchange, she hears voices behind him.

- Dude, tell Jisoo thanks for the cookies!

- They were amazing, seriously! She's got it down pat!

A blank.

Yn says nothing more. Neither is Felix.

- Jisoo?

- Yn, it's not...

- Did you tell them your best mate made the cookies? The ones I baked while you were at my place this morning? The ones you watched get cold while you kissed me?

- I didn't mean anything by it, I just didn't want them to wonder.

- So you'd rather make me look like an invisible, average chick than have to assume that someone cares about you?

- It's not that, Yn, you know very well how I feel about you. I just wanted to protect what we have.

- By trying to protect us, you're making me disappear.

Silence. A long one. Too long.

- Yn, I'm sorry. I screwed up.

- Yeah, you did. You did. And the worst part... I'm starting to get used to it.

She hangs up.

Around him, the guys continue to chat, unsuspecting. He says nothing. He gets up, leaves the living room without a word, and locks himself in his room.

He sits on the bed, runs his hands over his face, sighs deeply.

His gaze falls on the tote bag beside his suitcase - the one Yn gave him two months ago, on the sly. He remembers her words that night:

- This way, even if nobody knows it's me, you'll know.

He clenches his jaw.

He grabs his phone. Types "Yn" into his contacts. Stays stuck on her name for long seconds, thumb hanging over the screen. Then he locks the device and leaps to his feet.

He doesn't send a message.

He puts on his jacket and hat, and leaves the dormitory without telling anyone.

Night has fallen when there's a gentle knock on the door. Yn, her eyes red and her face tired, hesitates for a moment. Then she opens the door.

Félix is there. Out of breath. His eyes shining.

- I know I should have asked if I could come.

- You shouldn't be here, Felix.

He looks down. Nods gently.

- I know you shouldn't. But I needed to see you. Not to make amends. Just to let you know I'm here. That I'm tired of being a coward. And if I have to choose between hiding what we are or losing you... I choose you.

Yn stares at him. Silent.

- I don't want to be your secret.

- Then let me show you that you're not it. That you were never that.

A moment of silence. Then she steps aside, slowly, giving way to him.

Félix enters. Closes the door behind him. Gently. As if afraid the slightest noise might change her mind.

And in the quiet of this apartment, in the midst of all the things they haven't said to each other, he understands one thing: loving someone in secret isn't bad... as long as you don't forget to make her feel loved.

The silence in the apartment is heavy, but not hostile. Just charged. Félix stands there, hands in his pockets, eyes on her as if afraid she might disappear.

Yn crosses her arms against her chest.

- You can't just barge in here and think everything's going to be all right because you said the right words.

- I know I can't. I didn't come here so you'd forgive me tonight. I'm here to prove that I deserve it. That you're not just some secret I'm hiding, you're what I'm protecting... and now I don't want to hide you anymore.

She watches him. Suspicious. But part of her wants to believe. She's always wanted to.

- And how do you plan to do that, hm? Tell your members you're in love with a girl they've never seen? That you've been lying to them for months?

- Yeah. Exactly that.

- It's not that simple, Felix.

- No. But it's necessary. You have no idea how scared I was today. Because I felt I'd really lost you. And that's when I realized that if I go on like this, I'm going to break you... and myself.

Yn looks down. She says nothing.

Then Félix moves forward slowly. He takes his phone out of his pocket. Types a message. And hands it to her.

- You can press "send" if you like. Otherwise, I'll do it myself. I don't want any backtracking.

Yn reads the message:

"I've got something to tell you. There's someone in my life. Her name is Yn. It's been months. I'm in love with her. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

She looks up at him.

- Are you sure?

- À 100%. It's the only thing I've ever been so sure of.

She stares for a second. Then, slowly, she presses "send".

Félix smiles.

- Thank you, Yn.

Yn lets out a small, almost nervous laugh.

- You've just triggered the end of the world, you know.

- Or just the beginning of a slightly more honest world.

He hugs her. She clings to him as if she's been holding her breath for too long.

And this time, she finally feels visible.

[fairlyang]

18+ smut. mystery girl cont. 1.3 🕷️

w/c: 1.8K

tags: 18+ smut. filth filthy filthy. going back, finding him, voyeurism, surprising him, blowjob, properly riding him, unprotected sex, slightly possessive x2, creampie

a/n: alright we’ll see how long this goes for bc it’s been fun writing them all back to back

part 1.1 | part 1.2

as soon as you got home you took out one of your toys because the sexual frustration was actually killing you.

it was killing you so much that the next morning you drove your ass to the sex toy store again. you didn’t have each other's numbers so you only had to manifest he'd also show up bright and early because he wanted to see you so bad.

you walked into the store and quickly went into the back, then practically ran to the theater. you went through the double doors and you could hear faint moans. the projector was playing some porn with a girl getting fucked by a huge guy.

you gulped and went to the right side and sat on the first seat in the back row. there were only a handful of people on each side based off the moans and groans but only as you were sat down did you decide to take a look around.

you looked at your row and no one was there. you stood up a little and looked at the row in front of you to surprisingly find the man that’s been living in your head.

his chair was slightly reclined and you could see his head on the headrest of his chair. you walked over to the right since he was near the middle of his row and you were now able to hear his moans.

you watched as he jerked himself off intensely watching the screen in front of him. you fought back a moan at the sight and walked to the left to get to him because you needed him so bad.

his eyes were glued to the screen until you came into his view and he gave you a wide grin. you gave him a sweet smile then dropped to your knees.

he frowned and shook his head, “I need to make up for last night.”

you shrugged and took his cock in your hands, softly stroking him while retaining eye contact, “let me do this first.”

“fine but I’m cumming inside you.” he says and spreads his legs so you could get closer.

you kiss his tip and flutter your lashes at him, “is that a promise?”

he groans and brings a hand down to your jaw, “absolutely.”

you squeezed your thighs together and took him in your mouth, not wasting any time and taking as much as you could down your throat. his hand took its place on your head, gently pushing you down to encourage you to take more.

you let him and took more of him as you bobbed your head up and down his length, surprisingly able to take more than half. he groaned and laid his head back as you looked up at him.

he looked down at you and there was just something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on yet but you were definitely going to be trouble. he was already growing obsessed, he just wanted to take you back to his place and take you in every square inch of his house.

but he’d have to wait a bit until that happened.

“that’s such a good fucking girl.” he murmurs making you squeeze your thighs together.

who knew praise from an older man could have such an effect on your body?

apparently he did because he continued.

“you like sucking off a complete stranger’s cock baby?” he murmurs and you moan against him.

he curses under his breath and you go all the way down until you could feel his pubic hair tickle your nose. you then pulled back all the way and let the saliva drip down to his cock as you took a breather.

you stroked it and stuck your tongue out before slapping the tip onto your tongue. miguel was losing it and he was trying his hardest to not pull you off your feet and just take you how he needs.

based on how long it took you to actually take his cock, he decided his against it because if he was one thing he was always a gentleman.

which is why he grabbed your arms, pulling you up before he stood up and he made you sit down. you got comfortable as he got down and spread your legs apart.

he kissed your right ankle and slowly started kissing up your calve to your knee then very slowly kissed up your thigh. he kissed your inner thigh then went up to kiss your clothed clit.

he moved down then licked a strip from your entrance up to your clit which left you breathless. his eye contact was so insane but you couldn’t look away.

and you were definitely already wet enough for him.

“Miguel please I need you already.” you whined with a pout on your lips.

he looked down at your panties and the entirety was soaked. you completely drenched them.

without another word he grabbed you and sat down then pulled you on top of him.

you grabbed his cock and positioned it to your entrance, hoping your body was ready. you moved down just enough for his tip to go inside making you whimper.

you lifted yourself up then went back down, taking more than just the tip. no pain.

You went back up then fully slammed down making you both moan. “Fuck baby-“

“you like when strangers ride your dick?” you breathlessly teased and he just chuckled.

“only pretty ones like you.” he murmured making you clench against him.

his eyes rolled back and you put your hands on his shoulders to help you. his hands were on your hips and he was helping you bounce before he’d take over.

“so fucking pretty.” he mumbled and you bit your lip.

you stared down at his lips and you had an urge to scratch. you leaned in, getting closer to his face as you moved your hips up and down slowly.

he was watching you intently. he could read your mind from a mile away so he didn’t hesitate to lean in and kiss you. you kissed back and brought a hand up to his jaw as his roamed your body.

the kiss was slow at first before Miguel turned it into a hungry and hot one fast by sliding his tongue into your mouth. you moaned into his mouth and you could feel him twitch inside you.

you moved your body faster as you kissed him back with just as much passion when he suddenly pulls away and starts kissing down you jaw then to your neck. “you feel fucking amazing gorgeous.” he murmurs against your skin and you just whimper.

you continue at your pace until Miguel kisses down your chest then cleavage and you go faster. this time you wore another dress with no bra so your tits were bouncing in his face and he felt like he was getting teased.

he took them out and squeezed them, then pinching your nipples having you whimper more for him. you slowed down a little since it seemed like he was going to be giving them attention no matter what.

he squeezed them together then latched onto your right nipple and started sucking. you moaned and with one hand bringing him closer because it all just felt so good. “just like that Miguel-“ you moaned and he pulled away to suck on your left nipple harder.

“Shit-“ you groaned and straightened up but he was latched to you like glue.

He then pulled away once again to suck on your right nipple and you bounced harder making him moan against you. he finally pulled away then pulled back in to suck on the skin right above your right nipple.

he pulled away and admired the red mark he left. he needed you to be all his. immediately if possible. he really didn’t like to share and the way he could see the men watching you from the row behind you, he needed to make sure you would be.

“I’m gonna fuck you now okay? Let me do the work.” He says and you nod.

you lifted yourself up a bit but he shook his head and brought you all the way down. first he pressed the button so the recliner can move back because he wanted to fuck you the same as the first time.

he lifted his hips up slightly then started pounding into you like there was no tomorrow. the noises alone were enough to get the attention of everyone in the theater so some of the guys were just jerking off while watching. luckily your back was turned to them so you had no idea. just completely focused on the absolute pleasure you were getting from this man.

you moved your body down and laid your head against his chest while slightly arching your back. his arms were wrapped firmly around you and you were a moaning mess.

he’s so happy he took the gamble on coming in bright and early hoping you’d come in as well. you had incredible sexual chemistry together and he wasn’t willing to let that go to waste or to have someone else snatch you.

and clearly it paid off.

he murmured sweet praises then dirty nothings right after just so he could see which ones you liked more. considering you clenched against him for both wasn’t a very good indicator but at least he knew you did like both.

“miguel- so good-“ you moaned out as he thrusted deeper he murmured sweet praises then dirty nothings right after just so he could see which ones you liked more. considering you clenched against him for both wasn’t a very good indicator but at least he knew you did like both.

“I know baby. fuck-“ he groaned as you started to kiss his neck and chest.

you then started sucking on his skin because it was only fair you left your mark on him too.

you weren’t too fond of sharing either.

he felt his orgasm coming close and his thrusts started becoming more sloppy and just deep. you hold onto his arms as he twitched inside you. your own orgasm was coming in and he was hitting your sweet spot so perfectly everytime you closed your eyes it was like seeing stars.

“please cum inside me-“ you murmured and slammed your ass into him.

he groaned and his thrusts got harder, his grip on your body was getting loose and your body was starting to shake. you both continued doing your thing at the same time so it was to no surprise that you both came when you brought your ass down as Miguel thrusted deep inside you.

he released all his load inside you and you just let out shaky breaths as he held you and kissed your head gently. your eyes closed and you could hear your heartbeat loud and clear in your ears.

you took slow and steady breaths as you calmed down while miguel did the same. his chest was going up and down and hearing his heartbeat was kind of comforting in a way.

you laid in his arms just cockwarming him and calming yourself down while Miguel shooed all the pervs away because he just made sure to make you his in front of all of them so they wouldn’t forget it.

[romanticinlove]

Misunderstanding pt 2

Summary: When Jude is banned because of his celebration, his anger gets the best of him

word count: 1.3 K

Tag list: @msrhodes @glitterymentalitymilkshake @stephiii29 @chloejuliana @ngadasblog @urfavxpo @judespoets

___________________________

You decided to respect Jude's wishes. It pained you to see the read on the bottom of your screen but, you promised Jude you would give him space. You hated to see that he thought of you as a burden. That you were the one who was in his way. Even though it bothered you, you still tried to understand. Maybe it was a mistake to text Trent. You and him were friends through Jude, you could never even imagine doing that to Jude. Throughout your day, you had to restrain yourself multiple times from texting/calling Jude. You spent all day thinking about him, hoping that he was having a better day.

------------------------

During training, Jude could not hear the end of it. All his teammates were making fun of him for the ban. Obviously he was upset and tried to keep quiet. All of the players were really laying into him and by the end of practice he was mostly over it. It had quickly turned into a big joke among the guys so, he didn't let it affect him too much. After training, everyone was heading back to their rooms to get ready for a team dinner later that evening. Jude had thought about calling you when he got his room, but Trent got to him first.

"hey Jude, still upset about the ban?" Trent asked Jude while they left the training grounds.

"Nah, I mean it doesn't even matter at this point, the whole federation has lost the plot" Jude ranted, "I've seen players do way more and receive no punishment, it's just stupid"

"I get it mate, I don't think it's fair either. Everyone is on your side" Trent said "I mean y/n texted me yesterday she seemed pretty upset too"

Jude stopped in his tracks and looked over at Trent, confused.

"what do you mean?" Jude asked while looking at Trent. Trent knew that he had just made a mistake but he couldn't just drop it now.

"After the match, y/n texted me asking if you were ok. She said you hadn't told her, so I did"

"Oh so you're the one going around texting MY girlfriend? Think that that's ok do you?" Jude asked Trent in an angry tone. Trent simply stepped away from Jude and tried to reason with him.

"No mate, you've got it all wrong. She texted me asking about YOU. She was concerned about you, she wanted to make sure you were ok" Trent told Jude. But Jude wasn't listening and spoke again.

"You're a prick. I can't believe you would do something like that. my own girlfriend too."

"Jude I swear nothing else happened" Trent called ou but at that point Jude had already left. He once again opened his phone and texted you.

Jude: Are you serious? You had to text Trent, one of my best friends.

Y/n: Jude please, you're not thinking straight

y/n: can we talk in person? I need to talk to you

Jude: No that's quite alright, you don't have to worry about talking to me anymore, you can just talk it out with someone else.

Jude was upset. He knew you texted someone, but he thought it was someone else. He never would have expected it to be Trent. Of all people. He was upset more than ever know and was genuinely questioning why you went to him. He was upset, and when he was upset he expected you to at least give him some time, not just go talk to someone else, regardless of the subject. Jude got back to his room and contemplated his relationship with you. He didn't know what he was feeling. It was difficult, he didn't truly think that anything happened between you and Trent, but the thought still lingered in his mind. He heard a knock at his door and went he opened it, he saw Trent on the other side.

"What do you want Trent?" Jude asked the scouser.

"Jude, you have to know that neither y/n or I would ever do that to you." Trent tried to reason with Jude. Jude simply looked at him unamused. "she loves you, do you seriously think she would have asked me, if she didn't"

"I know, I just- I have this feeling, I can't shake it, not about her, but I cam't place it"

"Can I be honest?" Trent asked. Jude nodded and Trent continued. "Maybe it's guilt, maybe you feel bad about what happened between you two and how you handled the situation. If I acted like you did, I would feel guilt" When Jude heard what Trent had to say, it all made sense. He did feel bad, the one person who would've been able to help him, He decided to push away.

"I have been acting like a prick haven't I" Jude said while looking down to the ground. he was actually disappointed with himself. His actions were inexcusable.

"I would say so, mate. I think maybe you should try to make amends as soon as possible. I'm sure she missed you"

"You're right, I'll head over right now. And I'm sorry too Trent, I shouldn't have accused you of that" Jude said to Trent while holding out his hand. Trent went into the dap and spoke up.

"I understand. You are a hothead, don't think with your head much do ya" Trent jokes one more before leaving.

-----------------------------------

As you sat in your hotel room, you decided to watch some tv. You had just gotten back from dinner with some of the other wags. You decided to keep your relationship problems away from them for now. You didn't even know what to do anymore. The last thing you wanted to do was to end things with Jude, you loved him. But you didn't want to have to just stop talking to him altogether. Right when you were going to call him, you got a knock and when opened the door, you saw Jude, with a bouquet of flowers and an apologetic look.

"Hello love" Jude said while handing you the flowers.

"Hi Jude" you said while taking the flowers and inviting him in. "What's up"

"I need to just apologize. I have been acting like a child. I had no right to react the way I did. You were looking out for me and instead of appreciating you, I accused you, I am sorry" Jude said while looking at you. You looked at him and when you didn't say anything, he began to panic. Maybe this mistake was too big, and he just lost you. You got up and he expected you to ask him to leave but you didn't.

Instead you hugged him and laid your head on his chest. He hugged you back and kissed your forehead. "Jude, I love you so much, more than anything. I would never even think about leaving you for someone else" You told him. he looked at you and you continued. "I am hurt that you would even think that about me. I am here to stay, forever, no matter what. I forgive you"

You pulled out of the hug and Jude kissed your hands. You smiled at him and brought him over to the couch that was in your room. You both sat and he held you face in his hands.

"I am so so sorry, I promise you, I will never do something like that again. I will be on my best behavior" Jude told you. You smiled and nodded and he pulled you in for a kiss. It was short and sweet just something to officially end the argument.

"Well as reparations, you have to stay with me tonight. I want to cuddle and watch movies" You said Jude nodded and you both sat on your couch. Before you guys would decide what to watch you said something else.

"Beside, I would never leave you for a scouser, they kinda talk funny" You smiled and Jude laughed.

________________________________

a/n: THANK YOU GUYS SM. all the support makes me so happy!! Also, sorry this one took a little bit longer, to make up for it, I will try to have another fit up in the next few days. trust. I will try to upload after the Euros final.

[eyelambspider]

𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧! — 𝐂𝐎𝐃/𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

Day 18 can you believe it? Here is a list of my prompts & event terms!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : gn!doctor!reader x doctor!gaz, security!price + horangi, psychotic!soap + könig + ghost 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : you and a group of mount massive personnel have holed up in the security room as chaos erupts around the building. Then, your beloved patients find you, they decide its better that they keep you 'safe' instead. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.3 k 𝐚/𝐧 : i based this on my fking favorite game series outlast so-! 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : blood/gore/death, swearing, yandere/possessive traits

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐃. The sirens had blared for over an hour, each smashed to pieces by howling patients or they had simply died out...

No one was coming. No one should have been coming.

You and Doctor Garrick stared in pale horror at the panel of security cameras.

Every screen was filled with scenes straight out of a horror movie. In the halls, doctors in white coats tripped over themselves fleeing in terror as patients roared in fear, smashing in the skulls of the people who had hurt them. The common rooms were filled with more docile patients, the television screen tuned to nothing but static. A few patients wheezed in pain, bandages covering their disfigured faces, while others cried quietly into themselves, simply staring off into the static. All sitting together motionlessly, seemingly immune to the horrors now ravaging Mount Massive Asylum.

The sight was enough to make you heave and turn away. Dr. Garrick quickly caught you, rubbing your back in a soothing manner as Price and Horangi stepped up to the monitors. "Fucking hell," the brit muttered, his blue eyes roving over the screens with a grimace.

With the two officers busy, you turned your head towards Gaz, eyes wide with terror, trying so hard not to tremble under his touch. "They won't send anyone! Gaz!" you whispered frantically, trying not to draw the attention of the two security guards who had pulled you two into the safety of the locked security room.

No one knew except the doctors.

The Murkoff Corporation, the company that employed everyone here had been conducting unethical experiments on the patients here... They would never allow a leak this substantial to ever get out to the public.

You and Gaz both knew it too. They wouldn't send anyone but an army of men to 'clean' up this mess.

Another wave of nausea hit you at the thought.

"Shhh, I know, I know," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder towards the two security officers, making sure they didn't overhear.

Both were equipped to handle patients, guns in their belts, the same blue shirt, black pants, badge and hat...

What would they do when they found out the truth? Would they throw the two of you out if they found out you both had no power over what happened next? Had no idea what to fucking do in this situation?

All you and Gaz knew, was that wearing a white doctors coat right now, was a death sentence.

As far as irrational thought went, it felt like the only person you could truly trust right now was the man rubbing your back.

"So what's the plan?" Price interrupted, making both you and Gaz nearly jump.

From the horrified looks on both your faces, the security officer's both got an inkling of the reality of the situation.

"We... We-we could," Gaz stumbled, trying to blurt out anything that came to mind before Price got up in his face, angry like the you had both suspected.

"You know what's happening outside those doors?!" Price's voice boomed, grabbing ahold of Gaz's collar to bring him up to his face. Although you tried to stop it, Price was strong, and forced Gaz's face to the monitors. "Those fucking lunatics will kill all of us if we don't get the fuck out of here-!"

"Wait!" You yelped, trying to calm the already deteriorating situation. "We have clearance to all floors! There's got to be a way out!" You reasoned, digging through your coat pocket to retrieve your keycard and hold it up for him to see.

Everyone seemed to stop for a moment, the tension buzzing like electricity before Horangi placed a firm hand on Price's shoulder, silently urging him to drop the doctor. "The front doors down the hall are locked," he started, the black face mask he always wore muffling his voice some.

Price finally let go of Gaz, and you protectively helped him straighten out, a nervous look on both of your faces.

"Before we got the two of you in here, there was a man in the halls," Horangi recalled eerily, taking his hand off Price to hold the straps of his belt instead. "Big fucking guy, had no nose," he muttered, "We can't go through the front doors with him there."

The front doors were on this floor, only a few halls away... but who knows what had happened in the past hour to stop the exit from being so... clear.

"That's Chris," you whispered, immediately recognizing the description of the man Price and Horangi had seen.

Chris Walker, a violent man, standing at six foot nine... He wasn't your patient, but he was infamous among the doctors here... And now, he was standing between you and potentially getting out of this hellhole.

What the hell were you all going to do?

You took a minute to think, covering your mouth in shock while the three men stood quietly, each considering that look on your face.

It looked like a plan was forming in that sharp mind of yours, and none wanted to interrupt it. Holding their breaths for what they hoped was a miracle.

"Keys," you muttered to yourself, blankly staring at the screens in front of your face whilst you held subconsciously onto Gaz's shoulder.

"They took the keys," Price tried to explain, remembering the crushed body of the guard who was supposed to have them.

"No, they always have spares," you nodded to yourself, the flimsy idea stitching itself together more coherently in your mind.

As you spiraled further into thought, more screams and violence took place outside on the screens. Each eye watching as crude traps went up, bookshelves fell over in the halls, windows broke as men pounded their bloodied hands against it...

"They always have spare keys in the subbasement," you huffed breathlessly, feeling your blood run cold at the idea.

That's where Walrider had broken out. Where this whole asylum riot had started, and now the four of you, or at least one of you had to go down there with the very keycard you held tightly in your hand.

Gaz whispered your name almost inaudibly, hand slowly slithering around your waist and pulling you behind him.

Slowly, you followed his eyes and felt cold horror run through your veins.

"Hey Doc."

"Maus."

"It's you."

There, at the bulletproof window of the security office, stood three of your patients, each doused in blood splatters and maniac grins.

John "Soap" MacTavish. His blue eyes wide with madness glared at you, standing so close to the window that his breath fogged up the glass. "Doc, I could really use your help out here..." he grinned, tapping on the window before he quickly got more infuriated by the barrier. "Open up this fucking door you bitch!" he roared, smashing his fists onto the window until a bloodied puddle had formed... and he wouldn't fucking stop.

König stood behind him, his usual black hood, the one he always felt more safe under was dripping with gore onto his bare chest. The giant of a man tilted his head acutely, his icy blue eyes flickering from your face with a softness, before they turned hard and cold when he realized there were others in the room with you. The tension apparent in the way his fists suddenly balled up into a white knuckle grip.

And Mr. Simon "Ghost" Riley stood closest to the edge of the window, watching curiously as Soap spit a mix of soft pleas for you to come out, to vulgar swears and threats if you didn't. An idea was forming in his head. Those dark orbs of his now considering the door that separated you from him. He would find a way in, or through.

To their deranged minds, their beloved doctor needed their help.

And the men in the room with you needed you alive to get out of this damned asylum.

p.s. is cross over the right word for this? what'd you think of this guys? lmk! because i honestly loved writing this!

[kathlare]

drunk calls

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: After a day of unwinding, Lando, in a slightly tipsy state, calls Amelie and ends up pouring his heart out to her.

Wordcount: 1.3 k

Warnings: fluff, smau

full masterlist // request over here!

July 22nd, 2024 - Cannes, France

liked by landogossip, drszone4life, and others

f1wagwatch: Lando Norris was spotted living it up in Cannes 🥂🌴 alongside his usual crew, Max Fewtrell and Pietra Pilao, just days after his solid performance at the Hungarian GP. 👏 However, one familiar face was notably absent—sources confirm Amelie is back in the US filming her latest project. 🎥💔 Are we sensing a boys’ trip or just some downtime without the WAG vibes?

View all 10,759 comments

f1fanatic99: Boys' trip? Nah, it's giving "Amelie gonna kill him when she sees this." 😭💀 → speedyqueen_7: @f1fanatic99 The way he's smiling like he’s free for a second…

drszone4life: Pietra and Max being the mom and dad of the trip again, I see. 😂

landogossip: No Amelie? Interesting. Let the speculation begin. 👀 → gridgirl_xoxo: @landogossip Bro, she’s literally WORKING. Let her breathe. 🙄

lapqueen44: Cannes with the boys, huh? Bet he's FaceTiming her every hour. 🤣 → fastandflirty: @lapqueen44 Lando? Obsessive boyfriend era. 100%.

f1trash_420: Lando partying without Amelie is like Max without Red Bull—just feels off. 😭

ameliesarmy: Lando, you better be on your best behavior. We’re watching. 👀

drshadeslover: Someone check his phone—how many "I miss you" texts he’s sent already? 💀 → f1memehub: @drshadeslover Probably texting Amelie mid-party like, "Wish you were here 🥺."

chequeredcutie: If Lando doesn’t behave, Amelie’s gonna write another breakup anthem. 👏

orangearmy69: “Boys’ trip” aka Lando causing trouble while Max plays babysitter. 🤡 → paddocktalks: @orangearmy69 Poor Pietra, third-wheeling their bromance again. 😂

ameliefansonly: If I see ONE suspicious photo from this trip, it's OVER for him. 👀

f1lurkersonly: Someone call Amelie, her man’s unsupervised. 🚨

teamdayman: He should be flying to the US to support Amelie, not vibing in Cannes. 🤔 → norrisfanatic: @teamdayman Let the man breathe; not everything has to be about her.

--------------

Lando woke up in Cannes to the soft lull of waves crashing against the shore, but the soreness in his muscles from the Hungarian Grand Prix reminded him of the intense weekend he’d just endured. He groaned, running a hand through his messy hair, and rolled over to check his phone. A text from Max Fewtrell blinked on his screen.

Max Fewtrell: Beach day, mate. No excuses. Let’s go. We’re meeting Pietra at the club.

He stared at the message for a moment before groaning again and typing back.

Lando Norris: Fine. But I’m not getting drunk.

By midday, the trio had staked their claim on a prime spot at a beach club, with white sand under their feet and a waiter never too far away. Max and Pietra were already sipping on cocktails, laughing about some inside joke, while Lando leaned back in his lounger, sunglasses on, trying to relax.

—You look like you’re in a mood,— Max teased, nudging him with his foot.

—I’m fine,— Lando muttered, taking a sip of the beer Max had practically forced into his hand.

—Sure, you are,— Pietra chimed in, smirking. —Loosen up, Lando. You’re in Cannes, not a press conference.—

After a couple of rounds, Lando started to unwind. The alcohol was working its magic, and soon enough, he was laughing along with Max and Pietra, his earlier tension melting away. The sun dipped lower in the sky, painting everything in hues of gold and pink.

As the hours passed, Lando found himself at the bar, another drink in hand. He wasn’t smashed—yet—but the buzz was strong enough to blur the edges of his usual self-control. A group of girls nearby noticed him, giggling and whispering among themselves before one mustered up the courage to approach.

—Hi,— she said, twirling a strand of her hair. —You’re Lando Norris, right?—

—Uh, yeah,— he replied, offering a polite smile but immediately feeling the shift in the air.

—I just wanted to say, I’m such a big fan. Can I get you a drink?—

Lando hesitated, glancing back at Max and Pietra, who were watching the interaction with amused expressions. —Appreciate it, but I’m good,— he said firmly, raising his glass.

—Oh, come on,— she purred, stepping closer. —Just one drink? You deserve to celebrate.—

—Yeah, I’m... I’m all good, thanks,— he said, taking a step back. —Have a good night, though.—

He walked back to Max and Pietra, shaking his head. —Why does this always happen?—

—Because you’re famous and hot,— Pietra said matter-of-factly, earning a laugh from Max.

—Still taken,— Lando muttered, finishing his drink and standing up. —Think I’m done for the night.—

Max and Pietra exchanged glances, knowing exactly where this was headed.

Back in his room, the buzz had turned into a full-blown drunken haze. Lando flopped onto the bed, fumbling for his phone. His thoughts, clouded by alcohol, zeroed in on one person: Amelie. He wanted to hear her voice, to tell her how much he missed her.

He unlocked his phone and dialed her number, his finger slipping on the screen a couple of times before he managed to hit “call.”

Amelie was sitting in her trailer, scrolling through her script when her phone lit up. Seeing Lando’s name, she smiled but immediately guessed what was happening. She answered on the second ring.

—Lando?—

—Ames!— he said, his voice louder than usual. —Miss you, babe. Like... so much.—

She bit back a laugh, already amused. —You sound drunk. Are you drunk?—

—No,— he said, dragging out the word. —Okay, maybe. But like, just a little. Barely. I swear.—

—Mmhmm,— she said, grinning. —How was the beach club?—

—Boring. Max and Pietra are boring. Everyone’s boring. Except you.—

Her laughter bubbled through the phone. —Oh, I see. So now I’m the life of the party?—

—You are, Ames,— he said, his voice softer now. —Like, you’re my whole... my whole everything, you know that?—

—Lando,— she said, her tone teasing but affectionate. —You’re so far gone right now.—

—No, no, no,— he insisted, sitting up clumsily on the bed. —I mean it. I love you. Like, love you love you. You’re so... ugh, I can’t even think of a word. Perfect. That’s it. You’re perfect.—

Amelie’s cheeks flushed, her heart doing a little flip at his words. —You’re very sweet when you’re drunk, you know that?—

—I’m sweet all the time,— he countered, his voice defensive. —But like, I’m extra sweet right now because I miss you so much. It’s not fair, Ames. Why are you so far away?—

—I’m working, Lando. You know that,— she said, though her voice was tinged with amusement. —But we’re seeing each other soon, remember?—

—Not soon enough,— he grumbled. —I want you here now. Or I want to be there. Either way, I want you.—

There was a pause, and then his tone shifted, lower, softer. —You have no idea how much I want you right now.—

Amelie’s eyebrows shot up, but she couldn’t help laughing. —Oh, do you now?—

—Yes,— he said, unabashed. —Like... you don’t even understand, Ames. You’re so fucking beautiful. Like, the most beautiful person ever. And I’m not just saying that because I’m drunk. I’d say it sober, too. Probably better sober. But like, it’s true.—

She bit her lip, trying to keep her composure. —Lando, you’re really laying it on thick tonight, huh?—

—Because it’s true!— he said, almost whining. —And I want to... ugh, I can’t even say it. You’re too far away, and it’s torture. I’m tortured, Ames.—

—You’re dramatic,— she said, laughing softly. —But also very cute. Go to sleep, Lando. You need it.—

—Not until you say you love me,— he said stubbornly.

—I love you,— she said, her voice warm. —Now, get some rest. You’re going to hate yourself for this tomorrow.—

—Don’t care,— he mumbled. —Love you, too. Like, so much. Goodnight, Ames.—

—Goodnight, Lando,— she said, smiling as she hung up, shaking her head at his antics.

The next morning, Lando woke up with a pounding headache and a vague memory of pouring his heart out over the phone. His cheeks burned as he unlocked his phone to find a single text from Amelie.

Ames💛: You’re adorable when you’re drunk. But wow, Lando. Just... wow.

He groaned, burying his face in the pillow. —I’m never drinking again.—

[itsnesss]

Ok but why is junho x colleague reader is in my head like all day long ?

(Request, love you🫶💗)

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you and junho are colleagues. after a casual coffee and drinks invitation, the connection between you deepens, marking the start of something more

warnings | fluff, romantic tension and unspoken feelings

word count | 1.3 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The office is quiet, the sound of keyboards and phones is the melody that accompanies the hours of the day. Around you, the voices of your coworkers fade as the afternoon progresses. You’re sitting in front of the screen, completely focused on the reports you need to submit. It’s a daily routine that you’ve learned to handle, one that gives you a sense of control. And while work occupies your mind, you can’t help but be aware of his presence.

Junho is at his desk on the other side of the room, as usual, focused on his own tasks. You often work together, in the same team, but rarely speak outside of strictly necessary matters. You’re coworkers, colleagues, and that’s it. Though sometimes, you feel like there’s something more. An inadvertent brush when he passes by, a quick glance that crosses the air, and those small gestures that you can’t pinpoint precisely but leave your heart racing.

Today feels different. Today, the atmosphere is heavier than usual. Maybe it’s the sunlight filtering through the windows, warming the air, or maybe it’s the look Junho gave you a few minutes ago. The mere fact that he looked at you puts you on edge. You don’t know what’s going on with you, or why his gestures suddenly seem so significant.

In the distance, you watch him get up from his chair and head toward your desk. His steps are calm, but somehow, they seem too loud. Everything pauses for a moment, as if time itself is taking a break.

When he stops in front of you, he doesn’t speak right away. He just watches you with a slight smile on his lips. You have to force yourself not to look at him directly, not to let your thoughts betray you.

“Would you like some coffee?” he asks in a soft voice, more personal than professional. You’re surprised by the offer, but for some reason, you accept without thinking too much. His eyes shine a little, as if he’s waiting for you to say something more.

“Sure, thanks,” you reply, taking the cup he offers you. His finger brushes yours when he hands it to you, and the contact, though brief, leaves you with a warm and confusing sensation. Nervousness overtakes you, but you try to stay calm as you take a sip of coffee, avoiding any direct gaze.

Minutes pass in silence, but the atmosphere feels heavy, charged. He returns to his desk, but doesn’t move too far away, and you can feel his presence in every corner of the office. The times he’s gotten close to you, the times he’s looked at you, it all seems like part of an invisible dance you’re both performing, but neither of you dares to mention it. This is all new, uncomfortable, and though you don’t want to admit it, it intrigues you.

Throughout the day, he seems unable to stop looking at you. Every time your eyes lift to meet his, there’s something more. A glimmer in his gaze, something you can’t quite identify, but it keeps you alert. Sometimes it’s a casual greeting, sometimes a quick smile, but the tension between you two grows with each passing moment. It feels like you’re both waiting for the right moment to break the silence, to take the next step.

It’s near the end of the day when, once again, he approaches your desk. This time, it’s not just an offer of coffee, nor a casual smile. This time, he stops right in front of you, without saying a word, and his gaze stays fixed on you for a long moment. The air between you two feels thick, charged with something you can’t understand, but it makes you feel like the ground beneath your feet is disappearing.

“Would you like to go for a drink after work?” his voice is softer than before, but the question is clear. There’s no room for misunderstanding. It’s an invitation, and not just any invitation. It’s one that you both know carries something more, something that can’t be solved with a simple outing between friends.

You feel the knot in your stomach. Part of you wants to say no, that it’s better not to complicate things. But another part of you, the part that has been holding these feelings in for so long, pushes you to say yes. You can’t say it with words, but when you nod slightly, his eyes light up with something that looks like satisfaction, though you can’t be sure.

“Alright,” you respond, your voice hesitant, but determined. Junho smiles, a little more relaxed, and takes a step back.

Minutes pass until the office is empty, the hum of keys and phones fades away completely. Silence settles as you gather your things. The place is empty, but it doesn’t feel peaceful. There’s something in the air, something that makes you feel more alive than ever.

When you both leave the building, the sky is already dark, but the city lights illuminate everything with a softness that surprises you. Junho walks next to you, not too close, but not far either. The space between you two is a perfect contrast to the closeness of the night. You don’t know what to do with your hands, and you find yourself playing with the laces of your shoes to distract yourself.

“This place is nice,” he comments, looking around. The conversation is light at first, but you both know that there’s something more floating in the air. You both know that this outing is the beginning of something bigger.

You arrive at a small bar, one you’ve visited a few times, but never with him. The dim light, the murmur of other conversations, and the soft music create an intimate atmosphere, as if the outside world no longer exists. You both sit at a table in the back, and the atmosphere between you two becomes denser with each unspoken word.

Time seems to pass faster than usual, and soon you realize you’re no longer paying attention to what Junho is saying. Instead, you’re focused on the way his voice sounds when he talks, the slight shift in his posture as he leans closer to you. You realize how much you’ve been craving this attention, this closeness.

As the night progresses, the conversation shifts to more personal matters, and you find yourself sharing thoughts you’d never expected to voice aloud. He listens, really listens, and that makes you feel seen, understood. With each passing minute, you’re drawn deeper into his orbit, unable to look away, unable to stop yourself from feeling more for him.

Eventually, he leans forward, his hand brushing against yours. The touch is gentle, but it sends a jolt of electricity through your entire body. Your breath catches, and your heart races. You look up at him, and for a brief moment, everything else disappears. There’s only the two of you, in this small corner of the world, surrounded by the soft hum of the bar and the unspoken tension between you.

Junho smiles at you, a little more knowing now, a little more confident. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes say it all. You don’t know how it happened, but you both reached this point, this moment where everything is clear, and you both understand what’s next.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of quiet conversation, soft laughs, and lingering touches. By the time you leave the bar, the night feels different, the world feels different. The silence that once filled the space between you two is gone, replaced by something much more profound.

As you walk home, side by side, you both know that this is just the beginning. And for the first time, you’re not afraid of what comes next.

[hussyknee]

Made in the USA: Wage Theft, Fraud and Hidden Sweatshops

Unrolled twitter thread by derek guy (@dieworkwear)

4 Oct 24 • Read on X

ALT enabled on all images. Video has closed captions but is not transcribed.

Not trying to create a pile-on here. But let's talk about why something might still be made in unethical conditions even though it bears a "made in USA" tag. 🧵

The first thing to understand is that not all workers are covered by US labor laws. You might assume that workers get paid a minimum wage (after all, it says "minimum"). In fact, many garment workers in the US toil under what's known as the piecework system.

Piecework means you get paid not by the amount of time you work but the number of operations you complete. This system should be familiar to many of you. As a writer, I get paid per word. The pay is the same whether it takes me 100 or 10 hours to write a 1,000 word article.

My situation is fine bc I get paid enough to eat. But for a garment worker, the pay structure can be peanuts: three cents to sew a zipper or sleeve, five cents for a collar, and seven cents to prepare the top part of a skirt. These are real numbers for LA-based garment workers.

Piecework is how companies skirt minimum wage laws. Among labor organizers, the term "wage theft" refers to the difference between what a worker should have earned under min wage laws and what they actually earned through the piece rate system.

This system is incredibly common. A 2016 UCLA Labor Center study showed the median piece-rate worker in Los Angeles scrapes together $5.15 per hour—less than half the state’s mandated minimum wage. Labor conditions are also very bad: poor ventilation, dusty air, rats and mice.

A Federal Department of Labor investigation the same year found that 85 percent of Los Angeles garment factories were breaking labor laws. In 2016, these violations amounted to $1.3 million in back wages owed to 865 workers in a sample of 77 factories. This is wage theft.

In 2021, labor organizers won a fight to get piecework banned in California. But two years later, it's still incredibly common. I interviewed an LA-based garment worker who toils 12 hrs a day for $50. She sleeps in the corner of a kitchen. From my article in The Nation:

Currently, there's a new fight get piecework banned nationwide through the FABRC Act. I would link, but Twitter throttles threads that have outbound links, so I would prefer if you Google how you can support this legislation. Or follow @GarmentWorkerLA for more info.

The other reason why a "made in USA" tag may not mean much has to do with how the label is applied.

When you see this label inside your garment, what do you assume? Think about this before moving on to the next tweet.

The Federal Trade Commission has pretty strict rules on who gets to apply that label. For clothes, the item has to be cut and sewn in the US using materials that were made in the US. The FTC tries to match its rules with the common understanding of what "made in US" means.

If you're a giant company like Levi's or LL Bean, you may have lawyers who are advising you on these rules. This is why you see labels like "imported," which means the item was made abroad. Or "made in the US from imported materials" when they can't meet the MiUSA standard.

But it's incredibly common for companies to violate FTC rules. In 2022, the FTC fined the pro-Trump brand Lions Not Sheep $211k for labeling their t-shirts "made in USA" when the shirts were actually imported from China and other countries.

The company was basically importing blanks from China, ripping out the "made in China" label, screen printing the shirt in the US, and then applying a new screen-printed "made in US" label. CEO Sean Whalen claimed he was being persecuted for his pro-Trump views.

But the whole thing started bc Whalen made a video about how his customers are price sensitive, so he imports blanks from China. That's what kicked off the FTC investigation. So while this mislabeling is common, it's hard to get caught unless you make a video about your crimes.

The truth is that making a t-shirt in the USA according to FTC standards will result in a relatively expensive garment. Heddels and Velva Sheen both produce shirts in the US from US grown cotton. The first is $26; second is $90 for a two-pack.

Once you add things such as screenprinting—or if you want a more unique cut and not just basic blanks—the costs go up. This is why Bikers for Trump sourced their merch from Haiti. They knew their customers would not pay an extra $8 for true made-in-USA production.

Today, there are countless companies that make merch for other organizations. They source their t-shirts from a variety of places—some made in the US, most not—and then screenprint a design and fulfill orders. This way, the other org doesn't have to do any work but marketing.

When you see a screenprinted t-shirt for $20, ask yourself: Where was the material grown? Where were the yarns spun? Where was the cutting, sewing, and finishing performed? Where was the screenprinted done? What were the wages and labor conditions along these steps?

I'm not a nationalist, so I don't prioritize American jobs over foreign ones. But I do care about fair wages and labor protections. Just because something was made abroad doesn't mean it was made in a sweatshop. Just because it was made in the US doesn't mean fair wages.

Paying more for a garment is also no guarantee of ethical manufacturing. But when the price of a garment is so low, you leave little on the table for workers. Just because you see a $20 t-shirt that says "made in USA" doesn't mean it was made fairly.

Please don't harass the person who posted that original tweet. My intention is not to cause harm or stress for anyone. Only to help shed light on what goes into garment manufacturing, fair labor, and labeling. Hopefully, you will consider these issues when shopping.

For the inevitable question: "How do I make sure my clothes were made ethically?" This is very difficult to answer in a thread. My simplest answer is that we should elect pro-worker politicians, fight for pro-labor laws, and empower unions so workers can advocate for themselves.

--------------------End----------------------

TL; DR: Doesn't matter if it's the US, if it's not union it's probably a sweatshop. And not all merch is priced high because of fair labour conditions (looking at Taylor Swift and Beyoncé). Look for supply chain transparency.

[arieslost]

pole! | ln4

summary: user arieslost got so excited about a lando pole that she wrote a blurb about it

word count: 774

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

a wet track is no one’s dream, really.

it certainly isn’t yours, especially because you’re one of mclaren’s many supporters concerned about the layout of the shanghai circuit. the long turns and endless straights had you chewing your nails just looking at a picture of it, much less actually being there in the garage watching your boyfriend and his teammate during free practice 1— the only time they had to acclimate to the circuit before sprint qualifying.

as if that in itself wasn’t stressful enough, it starts raining during the qualifying session.

you know lando is good in the rain, really good even, but that knowledge doesn’t stop your heart from beating faster when it’s properly raining, everyone is slipping and sliding on the track, and lap times are being deleted left and right. which is why you have to restrain yourself from immediately celebrating when lando goes to the top of the time sheet, nearly 1.3 seconds clear of lewis hamilton, and gets on provisional pole.

“come on, come on,” you mutter to yourself, thumbnail between your teeth as you keep your eyes glued to the screen.

and, sure enough, his lap time is deleted for exceeding track limits at the final corner. you watch, crestfallen, as his name goes from first to the bottom. at any rate, you’re happy that someone other than red bull is on pole, but even seeing lando on the front row was exhilarating.

the time runs out on the session. you’re in the middle of letting out a long sigh, mentally preparing to comfort your boyfriend, who you’re sure is kicking himself already, when you happen to glance back at the tv at the exact moment his name shoots back up to p1.

“yeah baby!” you hear lando say over the radio in response to being told he’s officially on pole. “beautiful. simply beautiful.”

the rest of your sigh leaves your mouth, but instead of disappointment it’s complete and utter relief, a giddy laugh following right after. you’re always excited to see lando after he’s been in the car, but now you’re really excited.

you wait as patiently as you can while he talks to the media, and the moment his eyes meet yours you can tell that he’s having just as much trouble keeping his true excitement at bay.

you meet him halfway when he makes a beeline for the garage, letting out a quiet oof when his arms go around your waist and your feet leave the ground.

“fucking pole! holy shit, babe,” you laugh breathlessly in his ear when he sets you down and hugs you tight. “you scared me so bad.”

“you’re not the only one,” he replies, subtly kissing your temple before pulling you into the garage, away from the three cameras that have swiftly turned to face you both.

“p-freakin-one,” he says as soon as you’re both in the quiet safety of his drivers room.

“how does it feel?” you ask, taking a seat on the bed.

he leans against the closed door for a moment, a dreamlike smile on his face. “amazing. it always feels amazing.” he pauses. “almost forgot what it felt like, honestly.”

you hum. “hopefully it’s the first of many this season, hmm? i think you’ll win.”

“of course you do, baby.” he laughs, joining you on the bed.

“i’m serious!” you huff, bumping his shoulder with yours. “as long as it rains again. otherwise you’re cooked.”

lando’s jaw drops, and you press your lips together to poorly conceal a smirk. “all you ever do is hurt me,” he says dramatically, turning away from you.

“oh, come on,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your chin on his shoulder. “you and i both know that i have the utmost faith when it comes to you.”

“do you? do you really?” he asks, continuing with his little act.

“look at me,” you coo, turning his chin to face you.

even acting all mad, he still fixes you with such a loving look that you can feel yourself melting a little.

“i. love. you,” you say, punctuating each word with a short kiss on his lips. “and when you win tomorrow, you know exactly what i’ll say.”

“yeah, i know,” he tugs you into him, finally giving up on his act.

and so, when he wins, he’s perfectly in tandem with you when you scream, “i told you!” as he practically jumps across the barrier to get you in his arms.

lando norris. sprint winner. the love of your life, who would have been way less confident in himself if he didn’t have you.

note: i know i said i wasn’t posting this week but as it turns out, i am a liar. something something don’t blame me love made me crazy

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther

[carpbread0]

NPC Life is the best

(Genshin Impact x gn reader - sagau)

(second person pov)

Part 1 —> Part 2 —> Part.3

————————————————

Now that your kaeya predicament was gone, it was finally time to decide what to do for a living. to be honest, you didn’t have to worry about money since you were an accountant and had a few properties in real estate. So money just was never the problem.

but now that you’ve landed in teyvat it seems that all of your hard work has gone out into the gutter. real estate didn’t seem like a good job considering-

well

the fact that you had barely enough mora for four more meals. and accounting didn’t seem all that good either since the store managers in teyvat never seemed to need an accountant at all.

well unless if you wanted to work for the fatui and slave away while also having the chance of being hurt at any moment..

so past jobs just weren’t gonna cut it.

maybe a.. painter? You did paint as a hobby, but then again you didn’t have money for the costly supplies anymore..

oooo! Or maybe a baker? You did enjoy baking with your ex, but then again it was mostly him doing the work while you just stared at him lovesick..

mm.. maybe an adventurer? The pay seemed pretty good and you would get to explore all of teyvat at the same time. However.. the Khaenri’ah quests broke you so hurting a innocent hillichurl would probably break your heart..

who knew picking a job would be so hard?

as you grumble about what to do, a flyer from a nearby wall suddenly flys off gently and straight into your lap. A CHIBI drawing of a familiar figure prancing around piles of mora is dead center as the text above says

NEW!!!

Liben is back in town!! Those with valuable goods such as ores or whatever I’m craving- will be paid handsomely! If you wish to trade with me, please come next to the fruit stalls at the front gate if you wish to trade for a handsome amount of MORA!

teyvat has blessed you

Your holy savior is back in town!

but.. what could liben want today? Then again, his silly little flyer said it could be anything of value. Maybe you should try your luck at getting a precious ore! It shouldn’t be too hard right?

. . . . . . . . .

it was too easy

the moment you trekked out into a small cave near eagle coast was the moment you found two large emerald like ores that were easily plucked out. It was as if teyvat wanted to impress you in how it could bend to your wishes so easily.

you made your way back to mondstat and headed to the location Liben was usualy found.

weaving through the busy street you found yourself before the flamboyant looking man. He was as tall as you’d thought he be but with a very chill attitude just like his in game dialogue.

“Hi! My name is Y/n. I saw your flyer and I was wondering if you’d be interested in my ores” you show him your two ores which were as large as small watermelon.

“Hmm, these will certainly do. How about 1 million mora? These fine ores must cost a hefty price no?” Liben nods with professionalism.

“Mm.. how about 1.4 million mora?” You look up at him with a pitiful look. “I worked very hard to find these ores so it would be nice if you could raise the price a bit. Of course, if you don’t want to it’s fine.”

Liben ponders for a minute before diligently responding with “how about 1.3 million mora? Will that suffice Traveller?”

“Deal!” You look up at him happily.

“Good! Let’s set this trade then”

Liben proceeds to grab three hefty bags of mora and hands it over to you as you gently hand over your ores. As Liben hands you the bags of mora you can only ponder about how to fit the into your little pouch..

well that was until a backpack symbol popped up onto your pouch.. it seems like the bag you had stolen wasn’t any ordinary bag after all. Pressing on the symbol, the back pack screen popped up like in game. Liben didn’t react nor did anyone who was passing by. It seems like this screen was only visible to you.. how neat!

placing the mora into your inventory you see the mora bar fill up. Although you’re a little guilty about guild tripping Liben into giving you an extra 300k, times are hard and with such a good opportunity you must take it! Come on look at you now, 1.3 million mora would probably last you almost a life time in teyvat, but you can never be so sure. After all, being so stable with money in your old world sure puts you on your feet now that your hard earned fortunes are of no use. The more mora, the better!

. . . . . . . . . . .

Once you finished sharing small talk with Liben after your godly trade, you decided to explore the city of freedom.

it was about 3 pm now since you spent a few hours walking out to go find ores. Now that your stable with mora the flooding thoughts of being the creator really hit you.

Surprisingly, it hasn’t been on your mind at all. But now that you’re heading to the cathedral and the venti statue, the thoughts of being treated like a divine being throws shivers down your spine. While living in luxury would be a dream of some, being stuck in a cold and quiet throne room seems just as horrible as living on the cold streets.

now that you think about it, you haven’t heard talk about the creator at all. With how little you know about yourself you can’t help but be nervous. Is there an imposter on the throne? Do the people of teyvat sacrifice human beings in your name? these thoughts can’t help but send another shiver down your spine as you finally reach the top of the long stairs.

the venti statue stood high in scale, obviously more magnificent then it could ever be in game. The crowd that surrounded the statue was much larger as well. With nuns preaching about lord barbatos and so forth. you look at the cathedral to see another nun preaching, she seemed to be talking about the creator.. it’s best if you listen in on her words.

scurrying over you manage to find a nice spot amongst the large crowd of people.

“The divine creator has yet to descend but as diligent followers we mustn’t rush their return!” The nun says loudly as a few people cheer.

“Once they descend we will finally see their divine features, features not even the best scriptures could describe.”

“We will bathe them in gold like the color of their holy blood! And we shall never kill in their name lest we sully their robes!” The nun preaches like a zealot and the crowd yet again cheers.

well, that sure answers your question. At least the people don’t kill in your name.. you couldn’t be so sure about gods though.. well it’s better than everyone doing it, that’s for sure.

The nun also said that the creator hasn’t descended yet.. which means you’re not in the imposter au! Woo hoo! Now you surely have a better chance to live as an NPC.

walking away from the crowd you decide it’s best to go look for an inn. The gothe hotel is an obvious contender but it’s taken over by the fatui.. maybe you should walk around the city a little more and decide.

heading down the stairs to the town square you sit down on a bench, now realizing the toll of walking down the large amount of steps.. how do the locals do it *sigh*

unknown to you a certain soft spoken alchemist can’t help but be captured by the sight of you. With his interest peaked he walks over to you quietly without you noticing a thing.

“Excuse me, is it alright if I sketch you?”

——————————————————————

carp bread- wasn’t sure how I was supposed to write Liben 😔👆

[speakofthedebbie]

WHY IS HUSK SO SHORT HERE AHGA

no cause this is prolly the straightest this grandpa has stood next to someone with a confirmed height right. using ultra advanced math (a fucking ruler on the screen) husk is like 1.3 cm taller than half of angels height (8ft) so theres some margin for error but. YOU ARE NOT TELLING ME THIS MAN IS SHORTER THAN 5' WHAT-

[songmingisthighs]

Oddeleny

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

<< previous | m.list | next >>

ch. lxxi - no <3

ghost!yeosang × reader

genre : ghost!au

rating, warning : mature; crude jokes and filthy language, physical fight

wc : 1.3 k

buy me coffee ?

a connection once had, broken with the expectation that the ending is final. but life has an odd proclivity of making attachments from detachments. in the end, we don't know what we lost until we look at what we have

"You're exaggerating!" You laughed loudly at the man before you. Well, the screen before you.

"No, I'm not! Hongjoong hyung said your cousin told him to tell me that he's a clumsy guy so he might drop me into the toilet bowl or something!" Yeosang squeaked, trying to convince you that your cousin had sent a messenger to threaten him. "Oh you're trusting the words of Kim Hongjoong? The guy who can't even remember where he put his things?" you raised an eyebrow at Yeosang who rolled his eyes on you, "And besides, Leo oppa still doesn't completely believe that you're actually stuck in a phone." Confused, Yeosang furrowed his eyebrows, "But he saw me the other day? Remember? We were all cooking and he walked by and we definitely made eye contact and all!" "Why does it matter? Why do you want him to acknowledge you so much? Do you have a crush on him or something?" Yeosang immediately made a gagging noise and pretended to choke himself. "Yeosang, stop that! You're acting stupid!" you laughed, snorting when you saw Yeosang trashing around on the small screen. Yeosang paused his acting to raise an eyebrow at you, "And make you stop laughing? No way, I have a lot to make up for and I'm starting now," he said pointedly.

Yeosang's words halted your laughter as the gravity of what he said struck you. "You're serious about that, huh?" the tone of your voice soften and Yeosang took notice of it, "Like a heart attack," he said with a faux serious face. Having been around you for a while, he picked up some of your quirks like how serious conversations make you nervous so he tried to make the situation more lighthearted. And it worked because you sputtered and laughed loudly at Yeosang who couldn't help but crack a grin at how comfortable you had gotten with him over time, "Don't you mean like a coma?" you teased which made Yeosang make a faux scandalized look.

Once your laughter subsided, you and Yeosang stared at each other for a bit before bursting out laughing out of the blue. It took a while until the two of you calmed down. The vibe made you suddenly think of the kind of relationship you had developed in recent times. It was almost impossible to think that there was animosity between the two of you. The rift between you existed due to trauma and it was almost ironic that you two reconciled with the help of another trauma.

"When you get out of this," you shuffled in your seat so you could lean closer to the screen, reaching a hand out as if to touch Yeosang, "We're gonna make up for lost time, okay? Fresh start. As if the past decade was a momentary break of insanity," you stated firmly. Yeosang had been the one to advocate for the two of you to reconcile and while he understood your hesitation, it still made him think that you may not want to reconcile. But seeing you taking the first step, Yeosang felt hopeful and absolutely grateful and he showed it by reaching a hand out as if to touch you through the screen. "I would really like that actually. And thank you for understanding, I'll be sure to be the one making things up to you once I go back," Yeosang's voice waivered a bit and it was obvious that he was trying to hold his tears back. Thankfully you didn't comment on it and even playfully rolled your eyes, "Well, I'm being genuine here. You did spend a bunch of time with Jung Wooyoung, you might have caught his crazy and I'll be honest, that worried me," you teased.

The serenity was ripped out of your hands the same way you were ripped from your seat all of a sudden with a yank to your hair which was hard enough that you and the chair fell sideways.

With your head spinning, you tried your best to focus your eyes, but everything still came out slightly blurred. But not even the sudden impact could make you miss the figure standing in front of you, holding your phone in his hands with shaky hands.

"I knew it, I knew I wasn't crazy," Wooyoung shuddered shakily, eyes wide and crazed as he stared at Yeosang inside your phone, too surprised to utter anything.

"That's debatable," you groaned as you tried to get up, stumbling as your brain was trying to regain your balance, "What the fuck is with you and breaking in, you fucking psycho?" Wooyoung snapped his gaze to you and looked at you from top to bottom with an expression that was more neutral than you liked, save for the shaky hands. Considering the surprising turn of events, the revelation, and also the gravity of the truth, the look on Wooyoung's face made him seem more unstable. Like someone who was beyond unhinged. The calm before the damn fucking sharknado.

"I know Leo hyung's passcode but that is not important right now because for WEEKS I thought I was going crazy because of that one night in Yeosang's room, I thought I was hallucinating because I was carrying the guilt of what happened in that alley but no, this proves that I'm not crazy and this proves that you people have it out on me. You people are trying to make it seem like I'm mentally incompetent because you all have it out on me so you can ruin me!" Wooyoung screamed out, pointing at you accusingly. "And you," Wooyoung then put the phone up to his face, "How are you doing this? What the fuck is going on? Are you even really in a coma?" he asked hurriedly. Yeosang stared at his friend (who he was sure would become his former friend once he went back to his body) incredulously, "Really? You really think I would fake being in a coma?" "Well, you WERE a fake friend to me, traitor!" Wooyoung screamed into the phone.

You regained your stability back rather quickly and once you did, you pushed Wooyoung down on the ground with a huff. "Stop being dramatic, you asshole. Yeosang was being your friend even when you covered up the person who got him hurt in middle school and then you even dared hurt him, both to cover your ass and until a while ago, he was still advocating for your mercy until you showed him just the kind of person you are."

Wooyoung was about to get up when you stepped on his chest, "What will it take for you to realize that you have gone too damn far that it truly seems like nothing can redeem you?" you asked, looking at him with disdain and pity. Disdain because he truly had gone over the rails and is now squatting in crazy town and pity because you realized that your parents had truly fucked up by investing all they have in the wrong child. "Stop being condescending you bitch," Wooyoung hissed and grabbed your leg that was on his chest, pulling it to the side so that you lost your balance and fall on your ass. Wooyoung shuffled to get away but you grabbed on his leg tightly, "Wooyoung, stop fucking resisting! Give up!" you yelled but he trashed around, refusing to give up, "No! I'm not going to go down over this! I now have proof that you were trying to ruin me!" "Oh give it a fucking rest you asshole, you're not that important in my life that I want to ruin you! I just want you to stop so you won't hurt more people! Try as you may, but there is no scenario where you'll get out of this unscathed, Wooyoung."

Your words rang deep in Wooyoung's head and as the thought sunk in, you took it as an opportunity for you to get up and get your phone back. Looking down at your twin brother, you shook your head and exhaled sharply, "Things would've been way easier if you had just cooperated during the intervention, Wooyoung. But you just HAD to complicate things for yourself," you averted your gaze down to your phone to see Yeosang looking panicked and perhaps slightly pale. You considered the possibility of him experiencing being shaken like a protein shake.

"Are you okay?" you asked, cringing at Yeosang who just nodded quickly, "I'll be even more okay if you call the authorities now and get Wooyoung booked," he pointed out. Realizing that, you quickly nodded in agreement, "Good idea."

Head buried in your phone as you type in the number for the authorities and tried to decide on what to say to the authorities, you completely missed Wooyoung standing back up and looking at you menacingly. His eyes zeroed in on you and his hands shakily reached for you. The last thing you heard was Yeosang screaming your name from the phone and boom, you were tackled and your head hit something hard.

What the hell just happened?

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

taglist :

@luvt0kki @aestheticsluut @stayatinykatsy @miaatiny @yukichan67 @maidens-world @wlv-asteria @bee-the-loser @junstulip @keinskpopcorner @donghyuckanti27 @axo-l0tl @cyber-innie @oddracha @dinossaurz @vcutparis @redzie02 @blackb3ll @mizumigi @jan-l @zoro-nanami-wifey @charreddonuts @itasluv @green-agent @teenyfinds @gxlden-bxbyy @that-irrelevant-ricecakeaddict @tinyelfperson @jenowithjaem @mayonnaisehoeshit @allisonleannn @raspberrysannie @surveilenceysystem @borahae-reads @watanabehan @boo-ven9eance @cosmolight @ateezourstars @potatos-on-clouds @iinsomiac @kirbrary @conwunder @akunoeyebrows @kimhongjoongssmile

[fairlyang]

18+ smut. mystery girl cont. 1.2🕷️

w/c: 999

tags: 18+ smut. going back, no luck, adult theater, voyeurism, getting ate out, cut short

a/n: alright fuck it I’m making it into a mini series! gonna try to write more parts w less than 1K words only. just for fun!!

part 1.2 — part 1.3

you sat on his dick for five minutes and the only reason you got up was because your friend helped you. his cum dripped out of you but why let it go to waste?

you fixed your panties so no more would come out besides maybe dripping down your thighs. you were barely able to stand up right so your friend held you up as best as she could as she led you out the sex store and towards her car.

after dreamily rambling about his dick making you feel heaven on earth, it was a no brainer you were going to go again.

so the following night you did. you went in a cute little sundress but decided to not wear panties. you only kept your bra on so your tits could pop in case this time around Miguel decided to get out of the hole.

you made your way to the back, following the directions your friend showed you last night and the room was packed.

there were two girls waiting for their turn off to the side just watching the other girls. you got a little closer just to see if Miguel was there, and he seemed like a big man.

but you didn’t see anyone who looked like him. all the men had pale skin. so unlucky.

you then had the brilliant idea of going to the store’s adult theater which was apparently close according to your friend. “Just go through the double doors.” she told you in case you wanted to try it.

you went out of the room and the double rooms were right across. that makes it easy.

you went into them and at first it was dark until you walked inside a little more and you could hear moans from all over.

there was a projector displaying some porn movie and three rows of recliner seats for each side. about six seats per row so it was a decent amount. three rows per side which instantly has you noticing the left side was all men, helping each other out and to the right were a few men surrounding two girls.

you quietly walked to the back row and sat by the middle seats, you had such high hopes but at least you can enjoy yourself a little anyway since you were there.

only bad thing was you didn’t have panties and you’d be exposed. oh well.

you reclined the chair back a little and slowly spread your legs apart, while rubbing your right hand up and down your thigh. you looked up at the screen and it was playing a porn about a girl and her hot older neighbor.

perfect motivation.

you brought your left hand up and started to squeeze your left breast as the video progressed. the girl got on her knees and took the man’s cock out, it was a thick one.

you nearly frowned but then felt someone sit down to your right. you wanted to take a peak but you didn’t. you just continued teasing yourself when you heard a groan and couldn’t help but look.

your prayers were answered and there was the hot older man whose cock had you in a whirlwind.

your eyes looked at the thick cock that gave you the fucking you’ve been needing and you were nearly drooling. you bit your lip and closed your legs to rub your thighs together before looking up at his face.

he was already looking at you. watching your movements, how you squeezed your thighs together, and how you were still squeezing your breast.

his eyes then finally met yours and it was like he somehow put it together. he was only taking a guess because he didn’t know what his mystery girl looked like.

he only knew how you felt.

you decided to whisper something to him, you wanted him to know.

you turned and leaned in towards him, he leaned in as well and that alone had you feeling nervous but you whispered anyway, “I rode you last night.”

he chuckles and gives you a grin. his pants were already starting to feel tight.

of course it was a pretty thing like you. someone he could never have his hands on in public but definitely in a place like this.

he stood up then got in front of you before dropping to his knees. you gasped and your eyes widened when he spread your legs open, lifting your dress up only to find your bare pussy all glossy already.

he looked up at you and you felt your face go warm. a smirk formed on his lips and instead of saying something, he went straight to work on your pussy. he started sucking on your clit as he wrapped his arms around your thighs and he just fucking knew you would taste as delicious as you felt.

he moaned against your clit sending vibrations all over your body before he started going down and began lapping at your folds as if it were his last meal. you moaned and brought a hand down to his hair, lightly tugging on it.

you bit your lip and started to grind your hips up making him move with you. your eyes roll to the back of your head and you couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips.

he was eating your pussy as if it was his last day on earth and had no care about breathing. his face was buried in your pussy, just absolutely obsessed with how sweet you taste. he should’ve known you’d taste fucking perfect.

“Fuck Miguel- feels so good.” You moaned making him groan against you.

he was already hard as a rock and he wanted to feel you so bad already.

unfortunately it would have to wait because some of the men broke out in a fight and he gave you an apologetic smile as he went on to stop them but then mouthed that you should go.

next part